What I'm Into (March 2017 Edition)

We frown on literal freak shows these days, but the urge to ogle weirdos has not left us-which may explain why polite society lost its collective mind this week over a 15-year-old revelation about the romantic life of Mike and Karen Pence.

When Mahrukh and Shoaib Ahmad got a call from their apartment manager, saying that their home in Fairfax County had been burglarized while they were visiting relatives in New York for the weekend, they rushed home to find out what had been stolen. They weren't prepared for what they discovered when they got there.

"We didn't know" was a kind of mantra for her on the long walks we took when I visited her at the farm she lived on, not far from where she grew up. "But didn't you hear what Hitler was saying?" I would ask, grappling with the moral paradox of a loving grandmother who had been a Nazi.

Part 1: I'm trying to write this in a way so that no one will be able to research and find out who I am (or my brother is). But it's the Internet and everyone's a super sleuth. My brother went missing years ago.

Trans Teen Activist, Former Homecoming King, Dies in Charlotte, N.C. Blake Brockington, a young trans activist celebrated nationwide as the first out trans homecoming king in a North Carolina high school, is being mourned after committing suicide Monday night, reports North Carolina LGBT newspaper .

Activist groups are uniting as a broader coalition they've dubbed "The Majority," an idea inspired by the Movement for Black Lives - a collective of organizations in the Black Lives Matter movement - organizers first shared with Mic on Thursday.

Most pillows are just pillows, but for Jenny Slate, the floral-print puffs arrayed on her pristine white linen couch in her freshly rented apartment in L.A.'s Silver Lake are metaphors. For a bright future. For a new life. For freedom.

The older I get, the more I've come to accept certain things about myself. I like my coffee lukewarm, for instance, and I'm not a fan of smoothies or kale. I have an ass that makes it difficult to find jeans that fit, and turtlenecks and scarves make me look like I have no neck.

Sorry for the delayed response. I opened your e-mail on my phone while my date was in the bathroom, but then I saw that it required more than a "yes" or "no" reply, decided that was too much work, marked it as unread, and then forgot about it entirely until just now!

The first time we overpaid, we were on a taxi ride back from Turk Telecom Stadium into Istanbul. The morning had gotten off to a rough start, not because we had stayed up drinking too much raki, the anise-flavored liquor Turks serve at any celebratory occasion, but because, as two early thirty-somethings ready to go to bed at a reasonable hour, we had taken sleeping pills that knocked us out more thoroughly than we were expecting.

When you introduce yourself as a librarian at a dinner party - as I have been doing for my whole adult life - you usually receive one of two responses: either the dreaded "But wait ... aren't libraries, like ... dying? Because of Google?" or the well-intentioned, but gently incorrect "You must love books, huh?"

But that isn't good enough for Mr. Taberski. So he rifles through Mr. Simmons's social network, interviewing people who crossed his path and publicizing their speculation about his mental state. He urges listeners to call in with "any theory you think we missed."

They met on OkCupid. At the time, Constantino Khalaf, now 37, lived in New York City, and David Khalaf, now 39, lived in Los Angeles. But the distance didn't faze them. The couple, now married, had found two shared traits in each other: They were both Christian, and they were both waiting until marriage to have sex.

A group of dairy drivers argued that they deserved overtime pay for certain tasks they had completed. The company said they did not. An appeals court sided with the drivers, saying that the guidelines themselves were made too ambiguous by, you guessed it, a lack of an Oxford comma.

Some people tell me that I've changed; that I've become more confrontational and irritable, that I am less tolerant of disagreement now. They say that I seem angrier, that I'm more political. They tell me that I'm not the gentle, loving soul I once was and they regularly click their tongues against the roof of their mouths in judgment, lamenting the person they say I used to be.

Sarah: I had a long conversation via email with Asha Ganesan that culminated in her writing this guest post that addresses her desire for more inclusive representation in historical romance and supports her argument with data and external sources. I just heard you perk up in your chairs, didn't it?

Facing increasing hostility from the administration, the religious community also has to cope with its own internal tensions. When weary Muslims gathered in Toronto in December for an annual retreat, marking the end of a tumultuous U.S. election year, they probably didn't expect the event to turn into a referendum on racial tensions within the American Muslim community.

He had a simple but effective plan to win her over. "I remember thinking to myself," he said, "'If I can just make her laugh, maybe I'll have a chance.'" With nerves and small talk propelling them into the restaurant, toward the maître d', the cabdriver followed them, telling Ms. Welker that she had not paid him.

The campus of the University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff was empty, blank, and cold - like much of the landscape my father and I had driven through on the way from Little Rock. I was back at home for Christmas this past year, now a full-grown 32 years old.

"Damn." "Lovely Zayn hair." "Nice eyebrows. An underestimated thing in a man." "The only man that looks good with a semi-receding hair line." 'I'd like to see him in a grey cashmere jumper instead of that cloak - suave but casual." "Grey is his colour." "Imagine Shang in like, some nice Reiss threads.

Inspired by his recently deceased relative, a young German student Eugen Merher made this touching tribute. It's a story about an aging runner, constrained to living inside a retirement home, longing to put on his running shoes and break free from it all for one last run.